Clever
by arllama
Summary: "You underestimate my talent for cheating death," Robin said smugly.   Early Series One


They arrived at the camp a few hours after dawn. Marian had followed a few steps behind Much, not having the vaguest idea where they were going. In the tangle of tree branches and brush, it was nearly impossible to walk a clear path. The dim light and chilled air had made the trip more difficult, but she didn't dwell on it.

A few days ago, she had heard scattered stories that Robin and his men had been ambushed. There had been no news or sightings of them since and that alone convinced her it was nothing serious. They had probably moved deeper into the forest or were hard at work on one scheme or another. Then, that morning, Much had come to the hall just before sunrise. He said Robin had been hurt and didn't have much time. He said a few other things, but she wasn't listening. She was out the door before he was finished speaking.

She had pressed Much to keep walking, even when she knew they were both tired. But her fear wouldn't let her feet rest.

When they had finally broken through the undergrowth into small clearing, her eyes darted quickly to the only figure occupying it. Her heartbeat quickened, hoping it was him. It wasn't. Allan was alone at the fire.

"How is he?" she asked at once, fearing the worst.

Allan glanced up from the pot he was stirring. "And who's that?"

"Robin," she said plainly. He had to have been out of his mind to be playing games with her at a time like this.

Furrowing his brow, Allan looked at her as if she was the one that had gone mad. "Him? He's fine."

"Fine?" she repeated with equal measures of disbelief and rising suspicion. "But, Much said he was badly wounded and asked for me."

Much cleared his throat abruptly and Marian saw him giving Allan a significant look out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, right. _Right_. What I mean is," Allan started backtracking, his eyes darting between her and Much, "he was fine _before_ he took a turn for the worst- which he did. A pitiful thing, really. Pitiful sight, he is. It's good you came when you did."

Her lips settled into a tight smile as she realized exactly what was going on. Robin was going to be an even more pitiful sight once she got a hold of him. "Yes, I can only imagine," she said. "Where is he?"

"Funny thing about that, he's not here," Allan said hesitantly, as if knew that fact wouldn't help the situation.

She was not amused in the slightest. Angry, yes. Irritated, quite. Relieved, definitely- but she was nowhere near smiling.

She had no idea what Robin hoped to accomplish by dragging her out to the forest. If it was for a good laugh, he'd have it alone because she wasn't going have any part in it. Being made a fool of wasn't on her list of priorities for the day. He'd probably done it just to see how fast she'd come running.

"He'll be back," Much said quickly.

With all the restraint she could muster, she kept her temper. "I, however, will not." And with that, she started back the way they'd came.

"You don't know the way!" Much called after her.

"Then show me," she said frostily, not entirely excusing Much for his part in all of this. It was true he was just the messenger, but he had gone along with Robin's miserable attempt at humor. Not to mention waking her so early and having her trudge through the woods for the better part of an hour. She looked at the bottom of her dress, torn and caked with dirt, and inwardly lamented.

"And when you get back you can tell Robin-" She stopped abruptly, trying to think of an appropriately scathing insult. "Tell him-"

"Tell me what?" she heard his voice clearly from forest. She whirled back around to see Robin emerge from the trees with Little John at his side, just returning from a hunting trip it seemed. He's eyes were bright and he was smiling like an idiot, either happy to see her or happy his ruse worked, she couldn't tell.

He held one arm tucked close to his body. There was a long slice through the sleeve of his shirt and she could see the bandage underneath. No doubt he had caught the end of a sword, but it was clearly far from life threatening. She couldn't believe she'd fallen for such a transparent ploy.

"Back from death's door, I see," she said dryly. She crossed her arms, not knowing what else to do with them that didn't involve strangling him.

"What?" Robin said, his smile fading slightly in confusion.

"I may have exaggerated- a bit," Much said hastily, " or a lot. But people make miraculous recoveries all the time. I've heard it said-"

"Much." Robin held up his hand to stop him before he got started. Marian saw the exact moment he realized what had happened. It didn't take him long, he'd always been clever. He closed his eyes briefly and brought a hand to his face to hide the laugh he couldn't quite contain.

"Well, she's here, isn't she?" Much said under his breath. "Let's give thanks where thanks is due."

"Marian," Robin started apologetically. Though, after taking one look at her, he thought better of it.

She wasn't going to let him off that easily. He could have simply asked her to come, as any normal person would have. She wouldn't have, of course, but it would have been the proper thing to do. There were too many complications in their meeting and barring matters of life and death, it was too big a risk to see him.

She looked sideways at Much. He knew she wouldn't have come otherwise. She might have thought it endearing if she wasn't so annoyed.

Little John looked between her and Robin cautiously, not wanting to get in the middle of an impending argument. Seeing the peace would hold for the moment, he took the bow from Robin's hand and nodded toward the fire. "You should sit," he said.

"His aim any better?" Allan asked as he shifted over to give Robin a place to settle in.

"No," Little John said.

"Shouldn't he keep practicing then?" Allan said.

"I've said it a dozen times, it isn't a question of practice," Much said. "He can't keep the bow steady enough."

Marian looked at Robin with sudden concern. If he couldn't defend himself, he was in danger. The Sheriff's men were everywhere. "Why can't he?" she asked, temporarily forgetting she was in the process of storming off.

"_He_ can't because _his_ shoulder happened to become intimately familiar with the wrong end of a sword," Robin put in, tired of being talked about as if he wasn't there.

"It's that bad?" she questioned him. He looked like he was getting on all right, though he was adept at putting on a brave face for the benefit of those around him.

"With the way they go on, you'd think I was already in the ground," Robin said as Much handed him a cup to drink. "A few days, I'll be as good as new." He winked at her over the rim as he took a sip.

She didn't know if it was wishful thinking or the truth he spoke.

* * *

Soon after, Little John had drafted Allan to join him in the search for food. Marian took their place by the warmth of the fire. Much had disappeared briefly which lead to a few awkwardly silent moments between her and Robin. He didn't know if he should apologize again and she didn't know if he should be apologizing in the first place.

Fortunately, Much returned before either of them had a chance to say the wrong thing. He set down a bowl of water and some strips of cloth, exchanging a brief look with Robin. Without any further direction, Robin lifted his good arm, making it easier for Much to help him get his shirt off and replace the old bandage.

He turned his back to her slightly. Not out of modesty, she realized, but so she wouldn't see him grimace. He'd always had his pride.

Her eyes fell upon his back as it was bared. It was not how she remembered him. The years had taken their toll on him, or perhaps it was her memory that had glossed over the imperfections. His smooth skin was marred with scars, some more noticeable than others. There were bruises, new and fading, from his many encounters with the Sheriff's men.

No, it was not how she remembered him, but it was familiar just the same.

She knew every inch of him.

Suddenly aware that she was staring, she tore her eyes away and cleared her throat. "Can I help?" she offered. She didn't have the heart to leave.

Much glanced to Robin for the answer. His back was still to her, but she could distinctly see him shake his head.

"And why not? Give me one good reason," she demanded.

"Because I said so," Robin said over his shoulder, as if that should be reason enough. "Go home. Someone will notice you're gone."

If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being told what to do- especially by the likes of him. But he knew that already. She swore she saw a twitch of a smile on his face as he turned away.

"Go home, Marian," he said again.

She ignored that as easily as she had the first time and shifted closer to him.

"Mari-Ow!" He grimaced at the sudden jarring of his arm. "Careful, Much!"

"I am being careful, you're the one moving around," Much said, trying to concentrate on what he was doing. "There, you're doing it again. Be still!"

"Let me help," she said to Much, bypassing Robin altogether.

"He's doing a fine job on his own," Robin refused her again. She got the impression he was doing it just to be contrary. Though, she couldn't claim the high ground. The fact he denied her offer only made her more determined to carry it out.

"Much," she said, holding her hand out for the bandage.

"Much," Robin warned him.

"Don't you put me in the middle of this!" he said, his eyes darting between them.

"The middle of what?" they both replied at nearly the same time.

Much stopped what he was doing and unceremonious stood, thoroughly exasperated by the both of them. "You are in good hands," he said to Robin. "And you, my lady, have your hands full," he said to her, putting the strip of cloth in her hand.

He went to sit several yards away, giving them privacy while staying close enough to keep a watchful eye on his master.

They were both trying not to crack a smile, as Marian took over replacing the bandage around his shoulder. The first time her fingers touched his skin, she could have sworn he drew in a quick breath. When she put a hand on his chest to smooth the cloth, she could have sworn she felt his heart beating faster. But when she looked at his face, he betrayed nothing. Of course, he'd always been good at that.

Just as she was finishing, he chuckled to himself.

"What?" She glanced up as she secured the end of the bandage.

"I thought you came to see me," he said.

"I did."

"I meant on your own, without Much's help," he said.

So it had been the sight of her that brought the smile to his face. She felt her cheeks flush slightly and found sudden interest in the branches above them.

"Well, _I_ thought you were dying," she countered.

"You underestimate my talent for cheating death," he said smugly. He'd always been arrogant. Reckless and arrogant. Perhaps that was why she was so quick to believe the worst. In her mind, it was only a matter of time before he found a force he couldn't outsmart or outshoot.

He studied her for a moment. "You were worried," he said. It was more a statement of fact than a question.

She didn't want to say it aloud, if only to preserve the illusion she didn't care for him as she once did.

But, by the entirely pleased look on his face, she didn't have to say anything at all.

He'd always been clever.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! (_Originally written for Yuletide 2007._)


End file.
